


Sometimes, when you fall

by Iwao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwao/pseuds/Iwao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t understand.” I had to crouch down to hear him better. “They’ve taken everything away. My wand. My money. My status. My fucking freedom. My life is out of my hands, don’t you see. This… this is the only thing I can control, how I handle things."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes, when you fall

**Sometimes, when you fall**

****  
Or  
  
The Significance of a Piece of Toast  
  
  
 _"Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly."_  Neil Gaiman

  
  


It’s a mystery, how the small things that don’t seem to matter are the ones that can change the course of your life, or your views, or your perceptions. Without that, life would be so predictable. Predictability is good, but sometimes a little capriciousness is just what you need. And in my life, there has never been anything as serendipitous as that simple piece of toast. With butter and jam, mind you. 

  
  
  
I have been working for fifteen months for de Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Being Division. I have progressed slowly through tedious tasks, from filing to writing reports to cataloguing calls in order to assign them the right code, according to the danger to others or danger to self. Three months ago, I had my big break. That means that I’m now part of the field force, answering the calls I used to catalogue.    

  
  
My job is enticing; it embodies everything I have always been passionate about. It’s so very rewarding when you can actually help those vulnerable creatures too weak and defenceless to fight for themselves! Of course, not all of them are powerless. Goblins (annoying), Vampires (icky), Hags (unpleasant) or Veela (hmpf!) are not really helpless at all. Nevertheless, they are discriminated against, and as such, in need of my support, whether they want it or not. But I digress.

  
  
Back to the toast. Did I mention Malfoy works in my department? No? That’s probably because until very recently, I myself had all but forgotten he worked here as part of his rehabilitation. Or rather like,  _if you can’t send him to Azkaban, send him to work at the Ministry, that’ll teach him_.  
  
If my tasks were boring, his were downright demeaning. And unlike me, he hadn’t progressed very far, unless you’d call moving from emptying ashtrays and bins to making teas and coffees on demand a progression. Which in a way I suppose it was, at least in that it showed my workmates were not afraid of being poisoned by him any longer. And this is a good thing, I suppose. Sorry, I’m straying again.      

  
  
So, about the toast. I had just returned from ushering a giant back to his herd, the poor creature had wandered too close to a Muggle area and had tried to make a nest in a cornfield. The corn was totally ruined, a round spiral pattern of crushed plants making a pretty oddity in the middle of the field. Giants tend to do this quite often, and I know many instances of those so-called crop circles.        
  
Our work also involves Obliviating Muggles, and I’m pleased to say that it went without a hitch. They now believe they have been visited by travellers from outer space, which is ridiculous, but at least it takes the heat off the magical world.                  
  
Anyway, I had been out all night, what with rounding the giant, Petrifying him, taking him back via Side-Along-Apparition and settling him in with his herd, and then having to go back to Obliviate those Muggles, by the time my team made it back to Headquarters it was already twenty past nine in the morning. My teammates are a raucous bunch, although they mean well most of the time. That morning, though, they were tired and spoiling for a fight. 

  
  
So, the toast. Yes. One of Malfoy’s duties was to bring breakfast to the returning taskforces when needed. Or lunch. Or tea, depending on the time of their return. So that day, breakfast it was. He had set it all out in the Conference Room. Coffee and tea and six individual helpings of perfectly golden toast. So we all sat around the table, and let me tell you, the noise this lot can make easily belies their number.          
  
Malfoy was quiet as a ghost, and just as pale. He was serving tea, or coffee, depending on individual requirements, and I found myself covertly observing him, as I had been prone to doing lately. Don’t ask me why I was curious, I just was. I suppose it was such a peculiar sight, like all the arrogance and all the fight had been sucked right out of him. Is not that he looked defeated, or resigned, that at least would have been something. No, he just seemed… absent, somehow. I kept expecting a sneer, or a biting comment, Merlin knows he got provoked often enough, but there was nothing. Nothing at all.           
  
  
Anyway, he was unobtrusively serving their beverages when Ruddy Glasscock decided to be a prick, no pun intended. He had been quietly talking to Breccan Lowsley, never a good sign. Those two are nicknamed Trouble and Strife, need I say more, and some silly snickering and giggling had been taking place sotto voce. So it was with some trepidation that I noticed Glasscock grabbing Malfoy by the sleeve of his robes.   
  
  
“Hey, you,” he said, loud and rude. Lowsley snorted. “I want my toast buttered. And don’t forget the jam. Strawberry, not peach.”                 
  
Malfoy ignored him and continued filling cups.  
  
“I said, butter my toast, boy!”    
  
  
They were all quiet now, looking on expectantly, hoping for a brawl. I could have said something, but I was waiting to see whether Malfoy would react at last. I willed him to react.  
  
I thought I saw a flash of _something_ fleetingly cross his eyes, but it was so short-lived, it was gone so quickly, that I doubted it was ever there. Then he picked up the toast and liberally coated it with butter and jam. He put it back on the plate, without uttering a word. My cheeks reddened.  
  
  
He picked up the coffee pot again, and you could have heard a pin drop. Then Glasscock grabbed the toast and stood up. I know he had been vying for a fight, and he was outraged at being denied the chance. He flung the toast at Malfoy, and it landed on his head.   
  
  
“You touched with your bare hands, you worthless piece of sh-“    
  
“RUDDY! That’s enough! Who do you think you are? Apologise to Malfoy, now!” He scoffed at me.   
  
“Look, guys, little Granger thinks she is the bossy boss of me! Have a thing for Malfoy, do you?”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Glasscock. But I won’t condone churlish behaviour. Does it make you feel big, kicking the underdog? Does it boost your ego?”              
  
“I was just having a bit of fun, jeez, Hermione! You need to loosen up a bit if you are going to play with the boys!”       
  
  
Everybody laughed, and that’s when I looked at Malfoy. He had removed the toast from his head, and of course it had landed buttered side down. Sod’s Law and all that. The strawberry jam had left a big red sticky splodge on his hair. And then, at last, I saw emotion. He was looking at me intently, the loathing in his eyes threatening to spill over. He was trembling slightly with rage. Directed  _at me_. I couldn’t understand, I had just defended him! And he was enraged with me?                

  
  
He turned around and left the room, his stride purposeful. And he still hadn’t made a sound.

 

*****

 

I was on my way to the Atrium not ten minutes later. The whole incident in the Conference Room had ruined my appetite and I just wanted to go home and take a shower, maybe a nap too, since my shift didn’t start until three o’clock that afternoon.          
  
  
As I passed by a supplies cupboard I heard muttering and swearing and things tumbling down. I tried the door handle and it gave, so I took a peek to see what that was about. Malfoy was rubbing at his head with a rag while kicking the stationery boxes, which now lied in disarray all over the floor.      

  
His hair, where the jam had stuck, was plastered to his scalp, and I felt a bit sorry for him. So I cast a Scourgify. So shoot me.                 
  
  
He turned even before the spell was finished, and he looked  _furious_.  
  
  
“What the fuck, Granger! What is your problem!”           
  
“My problem? I just cleaned your hair! How is that a problem?”              
  
“I’m not a bloody lost puppy! Look, just… stay away from me. You’ve done enough damage today.” He tried to leave the cupboard then, but I was having none of that. I closed and locked the door with a quick Colloportus.   
  
  
“Look, Malfoy. I don’t know what the deal is with you, and I understand if you don’t particularly want to thank me for defending-“        
  
“Thank you? Are you mad? Did I ask you to interfere? No, you just had to be your usual do-gooder self, didn’t you, and stick your nose in other people’s businesses! You made me look pathetic there, Granger. Should I thank you for that?”                 
  
“What are you on about? Malfoy, you need to have your head examined! It was degrading, and you didn’t even react! Don’t you have any self-respect left, that you’ll let anyone walk all over you?”                
  
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, Granger! You don't know what you're talking about!"          
  
"Then explain, for Merlin's sake!"            
  
  
He gave me this stricken look then, like I had taken away his favourite kitten, and slumped to the floor. He sat against the wall, with his head resting on his knees and his hands entwined behind his neck. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there like a lemon.          
  
  
“You don’t understand.” I had to crouch down to hear him better. “They’ve taken everything away. My wand. My money. My status.  _My fucking freedom_. My life is out of my hands, don’t you see. This… this is the only thing I can control, how I handle things. If I rise above it all, if I don’t let them get to me, if it doesn’t affect me, then  _they_  are the pathetic ones. Then I win.”

  
  
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t really given much thought to his situation; I suppose I just presumed he had got off lightly. After all, working here for a few hours five days a week is not much of a penance, even with the taunting. But I never really stopped to consider his whole punishment. Sure, I knew his assets had been frozen, but I guess I assumed he had gazillions stashed in secret places. And I thought they had tagged his wand, not that they had confiscated it completely! That was inhumane. I grabbed my own wand tighter, like I feared it would be taken away. When I opened my mouth, I couldn’t believe what came out.  
  
  
“Would you like to go for a drink sometime?”  

  
Malfoy stood up then, looking at me like I had sprouted a second head.              
  
“You. Are. Unbelievable. Unlock the door, Granger.”     
  
“Malfoy, we all need friends! I’m only trying to-“             
  
“Don’t you see I don’t want your fucking pity? Let me out! Now!”          
  
“Ok, I will, but please, the offer still stands. And is not pity!” I was lying. I knew it, he knew it. I ended the spell and he walked out without a backwards glance.

 

*****

 

I didn’t see much of Malfoy for the next few weeks, except in the Conference Room after assignments. Glasscock and Lowsley continued tormenting him, but I never again interfered. I found those episodes disturbing, although I admit his acquiescence had a certain dignity to it. In the end, I stopped eating there altogether, opting for going straight home every time.  


  
Imagine my surprise when I got to my desk one morning and found a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me. And next to it, a perfectly buttered, jam laden piece of toast. I only realised how long I had been gaping at it when I heard a chuckle close by.          
  
“You are supposed to eat it, Granger.”  
  
I chomped on it defiantly, daring him to comment. But he never said another word. I didn’t see or hear him for the rest of the day.              

  
  
This daily ritual went on for many mornings. I would find the toast and bite it, and he would walk away and disappear. I never once thanked him and he never said anything, but nevertheless something had shifted.              


*****

 

I was leaving work one Friday evening when, as I crossed the Atrium towards one of the fireplaces, I saw a head of distinctive blond hair walking to the phone booth lift. On an impulse, I ran to him.        

  
  
“Malfoy, wait!”                 
  
  
He turned, obviously surprised. We hadn’t spoken in weeks.    
  
  
“How about that drink? You up for it?”  
  
  
He seemed to consider it for a moment.              
  
  
“Thanks Granger. But I don’t think it would be a good idea. I get enough flak around here, I don’t need it after work too.”                 
  
“But you see, there is a Muggle pub very close to my flat. I go there quite often, mostly to read in peace. It’s quiet and pleasant. How about it?”

 

*****

 

“The  _Hot As Harry_ ? Really, Granger.”     
  
  
I chuckled. The first time I saw the name of the quirky little pub, I just knew I had to make it my local. There were others close by, but with names like  _The Nag’s Head_  or  _The White Hart_ , they weren’t very inspiring. This one, well, it was meant for me, wasn’t it?          

  
  
We sat opposite each other in a cosy booth near the beer garden, and ordered a bottle of wine.   
  
“The publican’s name isn’t even Harry, it’s Tom.” I whispered like it mattered.               

  
He didn’t answer, not that there was anything to say. The silence was awkward, and since we weren’t speaking, we had plenty of time to drink. After three glasses each, the bottle was empty.

  
“You want another one?” I was surprised I sounded so sober. I have never been a heavy drinker, and could feel the alcohol warming my ears.            
  
“If it’s ok with you. I haven’t been out in ages. It’s nice, for a change.”  
  
I signalled Tom to bring another bottle.                
  
“Nice? I have to say, Malfoy, I find it bloody awkward. Don’t you?” He chuckled.            
  
“Of course I find it awkward, Granger. I never thought I’d ever be sitting in a Muggle pub drinking with… well with you of all people. No offence.”     
  
“None taken. I know what you mean.” I sipped my wine. “Why did you come, then?”  
  
He shrugged his shoulders.         
  
“Nothing better to do, really. Why did you ask me?”      
  
“I’m not sure. Maybe because of all the toast. Thank you, by the way.”               
  
“Don’t mention it”, he said softly.               


  
After that, we were quiet for another two glasses each before the wine made friends out of strangers. By the time the third bottle was half full, we were both sprawled on the old shaggy leather booth benches. The alcohol had loosened our tongues and blurred our differences, and I found I was after all having a bloody good time.    

  
“Tell me your favourite-“             
  
“Granger, if you ask f’my favourite colour, I’ll trotle…I’ll strangle you with my bare hands, consen…conquences…  _effects_  be damned.”            
  
“I wasn’t going t- Oh my Word! You are drunk!”               
  
“Whereas you are just peachy.”               
  
“No, but you… You are a  _man_ , Malfloy.”               
  
“Profound remark if I ever heard one.”                
  
“You know what I’m saying! I’m saying… what was I saying?”     
  
“I say we sh’d go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

 

*****

 

Why do people insist on getting you fresh air when you are drunk? Shouldn’t they realise the shock of the cold and all that  _oxygen_  goes straight to your head and makes you feel even drunker? All I know is that as soon as we teetered out of the pub, the alcohol rushed right up to my brain. I felt dizzy and sick, my ears were ringing and the world was spinning.  
  
  
“I don’t think I can walk,” I said weakly to Malfoy. “Can you take me to my place?” He scoffed.  
  
“We can take each other to your place, Granger, cos I can’t walk either.”            
  
I giggled. A really silly, drunken sort of giggle.     
  
  
It took us ages to walk one block. Not to mention the stairs. I’m pretty sure we both used our hands to climb up, and even then we stumbled several times. I remember shushing him after I fell on my bottom, and the affronted look he shot at me.                 
  
“Shush, yourself, Grng… Grnger. You are the one making an arse of your bottom!”       
  
  
Why I thought that was hilarious, I couldn’t tell you.       
  
  
As soon as we made it through the door, I staggered towards my bedroom.     
  
“Find sm’where to crash, Malfloy.” I couldn’t stand up a minute longer.

 

*****

 

I woke up in the middle of the night, or rather the heat woke me up. I was wearing the same clothes I went to work in, shoes and all, but they were not solely responsible for my overheating. I had something warm and soft and large wrapped around me like a second skin. It took me a moment to work through the thick wads of cotton pounding inside my head. Then I sat up, suddenly very aware. My brain sat up half a second later. Malfoy tried to pull me back down, his arms tightening around my waist.       
  
  
“Malfoy!” Ouch. No shouting. Shouting hurt my head.                  
  
“Malfoy.” Nothing. Out like a light. I tried to wriggle free of his arms as he mumbled crossly in his sleep.             
  
  
In the pitch blackness I felt my way to the bathroom concentrating, through the pounding in my head, on getting to one of the little phials of hangover potion I kept there. I felt around in the bathroom cabinet until I found it, then downed it in one before turning on the light.  
  
The effect was pretty swift. Within seconds I had sobered up. I put on my pyjamas and tied up my hair before going back to the bedroom, another phial of hangover potion in my hand. This time, I turned on the light on the bedside table. Then my heart did a little flip as I looked at him.

  
  
He was asleep wearing next to nothing, only a pair of silky looking boxers that barely preserved his modesty, and laying on his back, his face relaxed and unguarded. He looked so very young. I smoothed his hair back, then shook him gently. This time, he opened his eyes sleepily.

  
“Here, Malfoy, drink this.”           
  
“You are waking me up for a drink? Didn’t you have enough?" he mumbled. "And please turn off the light. My head hurts.” He closed his eyes again.              
  
“Drink it. It’s a hangover potion. You’ll thank me later, believe me.”     

 

*****

 

The next time I woke up, it was still pitch black. It took me a second to realise what had disturbed my sleep, but then it was very obvious. Malfoy was once again wrapped all over me, his arms around my abdomen, his head buried in my neck, one leg flung over my thighs. He was breathing falteringly and rocking against my bum, and Merlin help me, I could feel his hard length pressing, rubbing. I was still panicking when his body tensed and he pushed hard, and I felt this warmth coating the small of my back. He hadn’t made a sound apart from a broken whimper low in his throat, and a little while later I felt him relax and his breathing evened out.   
  
  
I didn’t know what to do, but the thought of that wet mess on my back was disturbing, not to mention the stickiness was getting uncomfortable, so I stretched towards my wand and surreptitiously cast a Scourgify on us both. It must have disrupted his sleep, because I heard him mumbling fuzzily “eat your toast, Granger”, before tightening his arms around me. I had to smile then. But let me tell you, it took me a very long time to stop the racing of my heart, and even longer to fall asleep again.    

 

*****

 

When I got up, he was in my kitchen, still pink and wet from the shower. He turned to me with a good morning and a genuine smile. 

  
“I would have made breakfast, Granger, but I have no idea how to work your appliances.”  
  
Without hesitation, I offered him my wand. “Here, use this.”    
  
  
He held his breath and looked at it, spellbound. I spun it so that the handle was closer to him and waited. Then he grabbed it and turned away very quickly.            
  
  
I heard him mutter a spell, and his clothes looked pristine again. Then he went on to make coffee, and toast for both of us. He levitated the cups and plates to the table, and even poured out the beverages with it. When he looked back at me, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes shone. I laughed out loud.  

  
  
“Thank you”, he said simply, handing it back to me.        
  
“Any time”, I answered. And funnily enough, I meant it.

 

*****

 

On Monday morning when I got to my office, there was a cup of steaming coffee and a buttered piece of toast with strawberry jam waiting for me. I looked around and sure, there he was, what I’ve taken to thinking of as his “office face” plastered in place.           
  
  
“Malfoy!” I shouted, loud and clear. “Grab your coffee and come sit with me.”                
  
  
I saw him hesitate, then a wicked smile spread on his lips until it took over his whole face. He picked up a cup and a chair, and slowly and deliberately walked to my desk and sat down.  
  
  
The silence in the office was deafening.               
  
  
“What!” I said loudly. “If anyone wants to have breakfast with us, you are welcome to join us!”  
  
  
Nobody did, but the everyday noise gradually returned to the floor.   

 

 

                                                                          *****

 

So, things have changed around here. For me and for Malfoy too. He is now filling up reports, and we still go out for a drink of Fridays to the “Hot As Harry”, but we haven’t got plastered again. He spends weekends at my place, although he hasn’t slept in my bed ever since that first night. I can see we might be heading that way pretty fast, though, and that’s ok with me.

  
He uses my wand if he needs to, but less often that you would have thought. His will be returned at the end of his probation. I can’t wait.

  
  
Although he doesn't have to anymore, he still makes me toast in the mornings.

 


End file.
